


all you have is your fire and your good looks

by cooler_than_a_vintage_cassette



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Demon!Crowley, FUCK newton pulsifer, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, a weird au thats entirely based off of an instagram prompt and what little i remember from the show, anathema works in aziras bookshop bc i said so, but a small one its ok, dont got nothing against him he just isnt in this, mortal!aziraphale, sorry - Freeform, still dont know how to tag, super little angst though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:41:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21716299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cooler_than_a_vintage_cassette/pseuds/cooler_than_a_vintage_cassette
Summary: While cleaning your attic, you find a box of glass balls with names on them. You accidentally drop one, and as soon as it shatters, a person appears.or:crowley appears in aziraphales bookshop a hundred years behind and is incredibly confused, but thankfully theres a cute man willing to help him through it
Relationships: Aziraphale & Anathema Device, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. oh, fuck

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this when i first watched the show and then immediately stopped caring about good omens so maybe the lads are ooc??? idk

Aziraphale never particularly minded clutter or messes, as his bookshop clearly displayed. The space was a disorganized mess, with tables made out of books for the sole purpose of showcasing more books. Every nook and cranny was crammed with novels and paperbacks, so you can imagine his surprise when Aziraphale randomly found a tiny door built into the back wall. With how many times he had been forced to come up with increasingly clever ways of housing all his books, surely he would have noticed this extra storage, right? Despite his initial confusion, his natural curiosity for all things in life wormed its way into his head, and with a bit of elbow grease, he managed to pull the door open. 

Instantly, a cloud of dust flew out at Aziraphale, causing him to cough and fall backward. How long has this been here? he wondered. Brushing off the dust, he grabbed a flashlight and turned it on, crawling into the small room. Surprisingly, the room opened up significantly past the doorway, and Aziraphale found he was able to comfortably stand. He tried in vain to look for a light switch, but upon seeing none, he resigned himself to the use of his flashlight. As he explored, he desperately hoped there were no rats in here, because if there was one thing Aziraphale could absolutely not tolerate, it was rats, especially here in his bookshop. He had spent years collecting and restoring all his books; no measly vermin were going to defeat him!

Aziraphale’s internal monologue was interrupted quite rudely by a box of something falling to the ground at his feet. Intrigued and a little frightened, he crouched down and gingerly pulled the lid from the box. It’s contents appeared to be… little glass balls? 

“Perhaps the previous owner of the bookshop liked to collect them,” Aziraphale mused to himself. He felt a little guilty going through the old owner’s things, but surely if these glass knick-knacks were so important, they would have taken them, right? At least, that’s the reasoning he used to ease his conscious. 

He was just about to close the box when a slip of paper attached to one of the balls caught his eye. Aziraphale noticed that, upon closer inspection, the word “Crawley” was written on it in barely legible handwriting. Or maybe it said “Crowley”? No, it definitely said “Crawley” on it. 

“Huh, now why would you have this written on you,” Aziraphale asked the glass sphere. “Is this your name? Crawley?” 

Just then, a burst of fire swirled within the ball. Shocked, Aziraphale jumped and dropped it, glass shattering into millions of pieces on the floor. Several shards fell through the cracks in the wooden paneling, but Aziraphale could hardly be concerned with that right now. After all, a tall, dark-haired man wearing what looked like a top hat and sunglasses had appeared in the room, standing directly above Aziraphale.

“Oh, fuck.”


	2. i hope he isn't dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowley wakes up and is instantly gay

Crowley had a bitch of a sore neck. Being cooped up in a glass ball for however long he was in there for will do that to you, though. A wicked crack resounded through wherever he was as he moved for the first time in a long time. However, as soon as he made to crack his back as well, the ground seemed to sway beneath him. The last thing he saw before his vision went dark was the floor rushing up to meet him and a pale hand reaching out.

Some amount of time later, Crowley awoke in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar man sitting beside him. He groaned as he tried to sit up, feeling the back of his head throb. Must’ve passed out and hit it, he thought to himself, quickly checking for blood and being pleasantly surprised when his hand came back dry. Crowley surveyed the room he was in, taking note of the copious piles of books and teacups littered about the place. Shit, this place is a real dump. Who could live in all this? 

To answer that particular question, Crowley swung his gaze around to the peculiar man asleep in a chair beside the bed. This man had short, pure white hair and a smart beige jacket with a light brown suit underneath. He looked like the very definition of peace, a soft smile stuck on his face, even in sleep. Crowley thought about waking him up to ask some important questions but ultimately decided against it. The light from a window was hitting him just right, and well, Crowley didn’t find any harm in gazing a few moments longer. Sadly, his view was ruined as the man woke up all on his own, blue eyes with far too many smile lines meeting with his own yellow snake-like ones. 

The man jolted and immediately stood up to hover over Crowley. “Oh, good heavens, are you alright, sir?”

Crowley attempted to clear his throat but was thwarted by a nasty coughing fit. He heard the other man mumble something that sounded suspiciously like oh dear before rushing off into another room. He just managed to tamp his coughing down when the man returned holding a glass of water. 

“Please, drink this, it’s just some cold water, I promise.” The man handed it to him and watched as he downed the whole cup in one gulp, hands noticeably shaking as he passed the glass off. 

This time, Crowley managed to speak, though his voice was fairly rusty from disuse. “T-Thanks. Might I ask what year it is, exactly?”

The man looked confused for a moment but answered nonetheless. “Why, it’s 2019, of course. Who are y-”

“2019?! But that’s… that can’t be right! There’s no way in hell it’s been that long.” Crowley felt his head spinning and laid back down, shocked and more than a little annoyed at the information.

“Sir? If it’s alright, may I ask who you are and where you came from? You can’t have been in that room, there was no one in there when I first found it.”

Crowley scrunched his eyebrows and frowned, trying to remember that day. “My name is Crowley, but that’s not what’s important right now. You said I was in a room? Where are we right now?”

“Ah, we’re in London, in my bookshop.” Despite his obvious confusion, the man still managed a small smile as he spoke. 

“London, eh? That’s the same, at least.”

The man suddenly frowned, and for reasons he would never be able to explain in a million years, Crowley felt sad to see his smile go.

“Sir, I must know, where did you come from? The room I found you in had been closed off for… lord knows how long, and I couldn’t find any other entrances into it.”

Crowley thought for a moment, then asked a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. “Was I in… a glass ball of some sort?”

The man’s eyes widened and he jumped up, nearly knocking over his chair. “T-That’s not possible! You couldn’t have-- then again, you did appear as soon as I dropped the ball, b-but that’s just not right! People can’t appear out of glass spheres, this isn’t Pokemon!”

“.....What is “Poe-key-man”?''

He sat back down and sighed. “Pokemon, and it’s a video game.”

“.....What’s a video game-”

“For christ’s sake, sir, were you born a century ago?” The man looked shocked at his own outburst and hurriedly apologized for getting so worked up, but Crowley interrupted him.

“I’m afraid I’ve been around a lot longer than just a hundred years, unfortunately.”

The man frowned again and sat back down, dumbfounded. “Forgive my asking, but… you aren’t human, are you?”

Crowley smiled, showing off his dangerously sharp and suspiciously white teeth. “Correct. I suppose I’m what you’d call a demon, but I’d prefer the term devilishly handsome.”

The man’s jaw dropped as he sat there, utterly and completely flabbergasted. “A demon, huh? Oh, dear.” And with that, he passed out, slumping over onto the bed, and coincidentally, Crowley’s legs.

“I hope he isn’t dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again,,,,, its so short,,,,,, goddamn


End file.
